


Party Pooper

by Jupiterra



Series: Heart Of Hearing Universe [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Babies, Complete, Family Fluff, M/M, Matthew has issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Matthew is forced to go to a family party, and he is not happy about it.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia), Canada/Netherlands (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia)
Series: Heart Of Hearing Universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196768
Kudos: 7





	Party Pooper

**Author's Note:**

> To be read after Hoarders

There was sparkling wine floating about the party. The event was almost as large and expensive as Alfred’s wedding had been. It was a day to celebrate, as Alfred and Ivan’s adoption finished up. The star of the show was seven month old Sergei, adopted from the very town Ivan once lived in. The baby looked up at his unknown universe with big blue eyes, surrounded by praise and love.

Matthew hated it. He hated this party. He hated that he was dragged here by his Papa, and forced to suffer looking at that baby  _ creature _ for hours. The normally sweet blonde was not lacking in compassion. He had limited amounts of it though.

After working full time with deaf kids on ASL therapy, there was barely enough care left for himself and his semi-crippled husband. Having been dragged from his downtown apartment on a Friday night, Matthew had nothing left to give. He was tired. He wanted to nap,  _ now _ .

Papa sat beside him, looking a little rosy from drink. “Matthew, is the baby not the cutest?”

Matthew refused to so much as glance at Sergei, swirling his murky iced tea. He shrugged, everything he could possibly say likely to drip with venom.

“Oh, Sergei is so cute. He will be even cuter when you get children too.”   
  
At this, Matthew’s death grip on his glass tightened. He let out an angry growl of a noise, not coping well with these depths of frustration.

“Just you see, my snowflake. You will love children,” Papa went on, laughing charismatically at the end.

Close to snapping, Matthew left and holed up in the bathroom. It had only been an hour, and he was already out of social energy. This night was going to kill him. Splashing cold water on his face, he cleaned his glasses and braced himself for hell.

Hanging around the snack table made things tolerable. He only had to stay one more hour, then the blonde could bail on this whole shindig. His snack table seclusion sharply came to an end. Dad appeared, starting to look mostly grey these days.

‘You haven’t congratulated Alfred yet, or held the baby!’ the Englishman spoke in sign language, Matthew’s preferred medium of communication.

Matthew was just as snarky, miserable to his core. ‘I don’t want to be here.  _ I’m tired. _ ’

Dad was having none of Matthew’s little fit. ‘Say nice things, don’t run away.’

Papa reinforced the assault, appearing with none other than baby Sergei in his arms. The delicate creature of skin and green fleecy onesies bore into Matthew’s exhausted soul with blue eyes. “Here you are. Hold the baby.”

Matthew’s low growl grew to a windy hiss. He finally lost his temper. He ranted dangerously in ASL, shocking both his parents. ‘I don’t want to hold the fucking baby, okay?  _ I don’t love kids like you do _ . I work with them every goddamn day, and now I want to take a nap. I’m done, so leave me the hell alone. Keep that gremlin away from me!’

Papa and Dad gaped at the outburst, lost for words. With a decisive huff, Matthew stomped out of the party. He knew there would be fallout from this, but he didn’t give a single damn.

* * *

Three days after the party, consequences arrived on Matthew’s doorstep. The doorbell rang, alerting Matthew and Lars via vibrating smart watches. They amused themselves with phone games, completely lazy after another day.

‘Don’t wanna move. Can you get it?’ Matthew asked his husband, a lump on the couch. They both spoke almost exclusively in sign language, deaf. Matthew could only hear because of his cochlear implant, and the functional range was a third of a room at best.

‘Fine, fine,’ Lars grumbled back. He was  **_not_ ** in the mood for moving off the couch, having settled himself rather comfortably on it. Sighing, he left his phone on the couch and ambled over to the door. Ugh, ow. He had forgotten to get the cane, so by the time he reached the door, he was grimacing in pain. Grumbly, he opened the door.

“What?” Lars began, volume out the window.

The doorbell rang six more times even though the door was already open. Only Alfred was this obnoxious. Peeping into the hall, the truth was confirmed. Half asleep, Matthew sat up from his phone induced stupor. He detached the outer plate of his cochlear hearing device in preparation. Alfred probably wanted to yell about things, and the older brother did not want to listen.

After the door gave way even slightly, Alfred stormed in. He blew past Lars rudely, seeking Matthew like a missile. “What the hell man, rude!” Lars objected, leaning on the door knob for leverage. Gingerly he leaned against the closed door, temporarily stifling his pain.

Alfred spotted his target, on the offensive. “Listen here you drama bitch! You were lucky to meet my new son and you called him a fucking gremlin! HE IS AN ANGEL!  **YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR BEING AN ASSHOLE TO ME AND MY NEW FAMILY!** ”

Matthew watched with malaise, waiting for him to tirade more. He then gestured once in sign language, ‘Deaf.’

Alfred steamed, having prepared that attack in the hall minutes before. His ASL skills were only to whisper dirty things to Ivan when he was trying to work, so they were understandably clunky. Still, Matthew had been a total jerk. This argument was worth signing over.

‘You were an ungrateful bastard at that party.’ Alfred gestured rapidly, still pissed.

‘I was dragged to that party against my will after a long day of work.’ Matthew stubbornly opposed, unwavering in his lazy lump mode. Lars returned to his seat, dropping heavily into blessed cushions.

‘You were a miserable piece of shit the entire time. Why can’t you be happy for me!?’

Lars bristled and cut in, reading the conversation. ‘Don’t call Mattie a piece of shit, you douchebag!’

‘This isn’t about you, jerk!’ Alfred retaliated dramatically.

As Lars and Alfred threw curses at each other, Matthew rolled his eyes. Things had not changed even a bit since grade school for Lars and Alfred. They would probably slap fight each other soon if Matthew didn’t interfere. Getting up, the wheaten blonde wiggled on to his husband’s lap. He started kissing and teasing the one he loved so much, nipping kisses down Lars’s scarred neck.

Lars lost his fighting words instantly as Alfred recoiled in horror. Peace achieved, Matthew stopped his groping affections. Looking a little rosy, Lars hid his smitten expression in Matthew’s shaggy hair.

Still, Alfred was persistently angry. ‘Why do you hate my kid?’

‘Have you ever thought about what I went through?’ Matthew prompted openly.

Alfred looked confused. ‘What?’

‘While you were popular, I was bullied. Children are bullies, Alfred. Someday, your kid is going to be a bully. I’m saving myself the association now.’ Matthew was bitter, but he didn’t care. Someone  _ had _ to say it.

Alfred’s anger broke as he waffled, taken by surprise. ‘What? No. Sergei is… How can you even judge him like that, as a baby?’

Matthew jabbed a finger at Alfred in accusation, before relaying his message. ‘Because you were a bully, and Ivan still is one.’

Lars smirked as Alfred struggled with this statement. ‘I’m not a bully. Neither is Ivy! How dare you!’

‘How many kids did you give swirlies to? How many pudding cups did you take? How much homework did you throw in the rain?’ Matthew challenged his brother as he struggled.

Alfred turned colours, flummoxed but angry. He recalled ages ago how he even met Ivan. He was kicking over the Russian’s sandcastle at the park. Ivan retaliated by pushing him into a mud puddle. They were just kids then. All these things had been jokes, and nothing more. ‘I’m not a bully!’ he spat proudly.

‘How did Ivan get his promotion then? By intimidating another nurse at the hospital. Even I know because he bragged about it. You  _ are _ a bully!’ Lars chipped in, forever salty.

Having lost the high ground, Alfred formed a few sloppy half gestures. He snarled and flipped the couple the bird, stomping out. Like hell he was going to lose a fight. Alfred didn’t like losing things!

* * *

A week later, a very tired Alfred looked at a list he had written. The couple couldn’t afford Ivan taking full paternal leave from the hospital for a year, so they were splitting the burden. Alfred was taking the first six months, and Ivan was taking the other half of the year.

The adorable sleep dictator was currently gurgling in his swing. This allowed Alfred a moment of reflection. Matthew and Alfred had made up hours after their little spat. Everything was fine in that regard, since they had always butted heads. The words of before still stung fiercely.

_ Someday, your kid is going to be a bully. _

The baby looked up to Alfred with innocent eyes. He was Sergei’s role model, and his Dad now. The burden seemed so real, yet this baby’s love was worth everything.

_ You were a bully, and Ivan still is one _ .

The baby was distracted by colourful plastic keys hanging off his swing. Alfred watched him, enchanted yet haunted. As a father, he was trapped in obsessive circles of thought. Every child he had ever taken lunch money from as a child was once a baby. Imagining little Sergei being picked on in the future pulled and distorted his mind into a dark vortex.

There was no force that would stop him from protecting this tiny being. He loved Sergei. He had ever since he saw the first sonogram picture. The baby’s mother had arranged early on to abandon the child, and Ivan abused his long degenerated Russian citizenship to make the deal of a lifetime.

Was the willingness to change the world for Sergei bad? Was this eagerness to control the quality of a monster? What did Matthew know about anything? Still, Alfred was feeling shaken and rather upset. He ran fingers through messy hair. Dealing with the baby these past few days had allowed him little time for personal care.

He trembled a breath anxiously, stressing over infinite futures. His hand naturally reached for the phone, a technological junkie since he was a child. Without effort, he dialled a familiar number. Papa’s sing song greeting met his ears.

“Hello Alfie. How is my favourite director?”

Words tumbled from Alfred, drunk and unrestrained. “I was mad at Mattie so I went to talk with him about why he was a dick at the party. He said stuff that was like, super mean but really deep. Papa, am I a bad person? Because I don’t feel like a bad person! I want to do right for my son and I’m… It’s all… I don’t know what to think about all of it.”

There was a long dramatic pause, then Papa finally spoke. “Alfred, how long has it been since you slept?”

Alfred rolled his eyes, forgetting his parents couldn’t see it. “I slept plenty.”

“ _ Non _ , Alfie. How many hours have you slept in a row since yesterday?”

At this Alfred hesitated. He wasn’t really sure anymore. Watching Sergei and working on a movie editing job at the same time had completely fried his brain since a few hours ago. He chose to dismiss the question entirely. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Lack of sleep does things to your mind. Tell me, how much do you love your son?”

At Papa’s prompting, Alfred sniffled. His control was failing. “I love him so much. Papa, I just want to keep him safe and love him forever, I…” Genuinely crying, Alfred proceeded to admit everything. “I love him so much and I want my baby to have the best dad ever in the whole world. If I turn Sergei into an asshole, I don’t know if I could live with that.”

“One of us will come over and help, okay?” Papa offered sweetly, glorious salvation to Alfred’s ears.

“Bring Doritos. Ivy won’t let me buy them because it sets a bad example for the baby.” Alfred begged him on this last request. “Please, please,  _ please… _ ”

There was a tired electric sigh from the phone. “Fine. I will bring a bag of cheese powder garbage for you to eat.”   
  
“You’re the best!” Alfred cheered, drying his wet eyes.

* * *

When Arthur eventually arrived at the luxurious home, he discovered his son passed out cold at a work desk. Baby Sergei was fine, bobbing about in his harnessed swing. Setting the disgusting bag of chips next to a snoring Alfred, Arthur turned his attention to Sergei. The grandfather couldn’t be more proud of his adopted little love bug.

Despite not looking the part, Arthur had actually done much better in the year or less when newborn children were involved. Francis relied alarmingly on red wine to make it past twelve months, more prepared with older children. Sergei looked up at his grandfather with wonder… then burst into screaming tears.

“None a that little one.” Arthur hushed softly, his native Cockney accent allowed to bleed thickly through. Only in loneliness did the proud Brit let his trashy roots show.

The crying stopped suddenly, Sergei confused by the sound. Alfred revived, looking as exhausted the parents feared. With greasy hair and dark eyes, the man probably hadn’t slept in a day. “D-dad?”

Arthur smiled, freeing Sergei and cradling him. His accent was tightened up to something clean and posh in a second. “Everything’s going to be okay. You’re not a bad dad.”

Alfred sucked in an emotional breath, relieved.


End file.
